


slave to love

by exley



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Masturbation, Multi, PWP, Threesome - F/M/M, Undercover Missions, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exley/pseuds/exley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good Kingsman always reviews the feed. It's rule number one of intelligence-gathering. So when Roxy and Eggsy double-team a mark, what's Harry to do other than watch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	slave to love

**Author's Note:**

> [flicks lights on and off] Welcome to hell! Welcome to hell! Welcome to hell!

It was supposed to be a routine intelligence gathering mission; in and out, gathering files underneath their host’s nose. Arthur, previously known as Harry Hart, is seated primly at the head of the round table, and watches with a furrowed brow as Lancelot and Galahad try to worm their way out of their current situation.

Situation, of course, being that their host, an internationally renowned weapons dealer, is eyeing them speculatively, and, if Harry’s instincts are correct, is proposing they go to bed, the three of them, together. He even mentions “etchings” (Harry closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose). Though Harry is rather irritated by this turn of events, he can’t say he blames the man. 

Through Eggsy’s eyes he sees his thought process; he turns and looks at Roxy, and Harry can imagine the look on his face; a wry, charming _what-can-you-do?_ smirk and eyebrow raise. Roxy, carefully blank, slowly transforms her countenance into something smoldering and playful, and Harry immediately knows what’s going to happen. _Ah, yes._

“I would be flattered,” Roxy says, and follows their mark up the marble staircase and down a handsome, wood-paneled corridor. Eggsy follows gamely, and whispers “ _sorry for the detour, Arthur_ ” as he goes. Harry only sighs in reply.

The bedroom is sumptuous and boasts a large four-poster bed, and the mark sits down on the springy mattress and commands them both to take off their clothes. Roxy, in a show of shyness, shrugs off her brown trench coat to reveal a demure dress with a cupcake silhouette. Then, smiling coquettishly at him, asks Eggsy to unzip her. Harry watches as Eggsy obliges, unzipping her dress to reveal her soft skin. The dress drops to the floor and she steps out of it, and the mark and Eggsy (and Harry) are struck dumb to see that she has foregone underwear, wearing only a pair of stockings and having (how very interesting) both nipples pierced.

Harry checks the feed from Roxy’s glasses, and sees Eggsy looming large, and the look on his face is familiar. Eggsy looks at Roxy, and Harry is sure he is looking at him, across a vast distance. The small smirk, the wink, the slightly showy way he takes off his jacket, then his braces, then his trousers, then his pressed shirt, then his boxers all speak to how Eggsy looks at Harry when they are alone. A game, then. Harry shrugs internally, and unzips his trousers, dipping his hand into his silk boxers.

Roxy, evidently, is not blind to Eggsy’s intentions; she places her glasses on the nightstand, conveniently facing the bed. She shakes her hair out of her chignon and greets the mark with a sweet, innocent kiss. She then pushes him onto the bed, and begins to undress him, making sure to brush the mark’s obvious erection through his trousers with her hands.

When the mark is fully naked, Roxy sinks to her knees and grasps his cock, starting a slow, agonizing rhythm. She swipes her thumb over his tip, and the mark groans as if in pain. Roxy waits until he’s at full mast when she climbs on top of him, stockinged legs on either side of him.

As this goes on, Eggsy pulls out the bottle of lube he keeps in his jacket pocket for this express purpose (Gun Oil is the brand; Harry insisted). He pours some in his palm and rubs his hands together, and he takes his cock as casual as you please. Harry watches as Eggsy’s feed catches the bedside mirror, and he admires himself as he strokes himself, biting his lip as he lubricates his own head. He is, without a doubt, absolutely glorious; Harry, already engrossed in the evening’s proceedings, rubs a sure circle around his cock head. Then, Eggsy moves onto the bed and fits himself in between the mark’s legs.

Harry, by now, is almost painfully hard, and he fists his cock in time with Roxy’s moans. In an impressive feat of strength Eggsy lifts the mark and Roxy onto his lap, and, with practiced surety, enters the mark, leaning into Roxy and groaning with the effort.

Roxy is picking up the pace, rocking frantically onto the mark’s cock; Eggsy matches her speed with his thrusts, moaning freely. He wraps his strong arms around her, one hand playing with her nipples, the other between her legs, stroking her clit with one finger. She hums her approval.

_Fuck_ ; Harry can imagine Eggsy driving deeper and deeper into the mark, hitting that spot that could make him go off like an atomic bomb; Harry strokes himself harder, eyes screwed shut as he imagines himself in the mark’s place, Roxy on top of him, Eggsy inside of him. That, he now figures wryly, had to have been Eggsy’s point.

Roxy’s thrusts grow erratic; she holds Eggsy’s hand to her clit, grinding into his fingers, high-pitched moans and sighs slipping out of her. Eggsy is a deft hand, and pumps athletically into their mark to speed them all along to their obvious conclusions. Harry leans back in his desk chair, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep from vocalizing too loudly. Eggsy, gripping the mark’s thighs so hard even Harry can see the marks, is making the same delicious sounds, those little breaths and whines, that Harry loves to drag out of him on a Sunday evening.

When Galahad and Lancelot come, so does Arthur, messily and hard onto his hand. His eyes roll to the ceiling as Roxy and Eggsy gather themselves with the kind of composure a Kingsman agent is known for, bid their mark an affectionate goodbye, and scurry out of the room with the kind of guilty post-coital faces that make the other party-goers avert their eyes. It is in this manner they escape the sprawling manse and head for the Kingsman-issued town car, thumb drive filled with information in tow. Arthur cleans himself up as best as he can, and congratulates them on another job well done.

Arthur can’t help but smile as Lancelot and Galahad share a high-five as they reenter HQ.

 


End file.
